


Tarnished Gold and Burning Eyes

by ranguvar82



Series: The Angel and the Doctor [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is an alcoholic, Body Horror, Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Dr aziraphale, Electrocution, Feral Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, No Sex, No Smut, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), There's a twist a coming, Torture, Trauma, Wrongful Imprisonment, anathema is a reporter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24527698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranguvar82/pseuds/ranguvar82
Summary: Heavenly Labs is the pride and joy of Tadfield. It sits high on the hill, white and beautiful. But beauty is only skin deep. This place has an ugly secret that goes  right down to the bone.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Angel and the Doctor [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787206
Comments: 152
Kudos: 227





	1. Dark Facets

Tarnished Gold And Burning Eyes

Chapter One: Dark Facets

Heavenly Labs was the pride and joy of all of Tadfield. The building, a beautiful white edifice, sat high atop a hill, overlooking the town like a benevolent sentinel. Since coming to town, prosperity had increased. Most people in the town either worked at the labs or provided goods and services for those that did. It was agreed by everyone that Heavenly Labs, or simply ‘Heaven’ as it was called among the townspeople, was the best thing to happen to Tadfield since its founding.

The interior was just as bright, white, and sparkling clean as the exterior, with a thick white carpet that muffled footfalls. Heavenly Labs specialized in genetic research, and under the guidance and leadership of the renowned Dr. Gabriel Arch had made strides in medical technology that would not have been possible even six months ago. They had created a bug that ate only cancer cells, and it had shown great promise in lab tests. Granted, there still hadn’t been approval for its use in human testing, but all the scientists who worked there were assured by Dr. Arch’s assistant Dr. Michael that it was only a matter of time.

Dr. Arch came walking down the white corridor, his face grim .Waiting for him at the lift was Dr. Sandy, one of his research assistants. Dr. Sandy looked perturbed and nervous. “We’ve got a problem, Doc. The...it’s starting to act out again. I tried giving it a sedative but it attacked me. I thought maybe you could..”

Dr. Arch smiled. “Of course. How many Ccs did you try?” He asked as they stepped into the lift. Dr. Sandy pushed the down button, pondering.

“About 200. The bastard knocked the syringe right out of my hand. It would have torn my throat out if I hadn’t gotten my ass out of the cell.”

Dr. Arch shook his head. “Oh dear, that will never do. It will have to be taught a lesson. Is the shock baton still near its cell?” Dr. Sandy nodded, a wicked smile on his face. “Wonderful. Nothing like a good shock to the system, I always say.” The two scientists shared a laugh.

Deep, deep beneath the building, in a place that nobody in Tadfield(and very few working in Heaven) knew about, there was a small, windowless room. The room had a door in which a slit barely big enough to fit a tray of food rested. Inside the room it was freezing cold and constantly damp. The air was thick with mold, and the only light came from a feeble bulb in the hall.

There was no bed, no chairs, no tables, nothing but an iron bucket.

The occupant of the cell curled itself up into a fetal position in a corner, trying desperately to conserve some warmth. Goosebumps rose on the pale, naked skin, and the occupant’s teeth chattered like castanets. It was so cold. So cold. So dark.

To the layperson, the occupant looked to be a man in his mid to late thirties, about six feet tall and very lanky. But there was one thing that was quite different about him.

Black wings, their feathers in disarray, emerged from the scarred back and trailed down to the floor, where they lay limp and shuddering with every shiver of their owner’s body. Hair that was clotted and tangled with filth and dirt fell nearly to the floor. It had been red once upon a time, but was now so covered in filth that the color was impossible to see.

Also, while it looked physically thirty five, it had only been in existence for two years-the same number of years that Heavenly Labs had been in Tadfield.

It had been Very Bad this time. DrGabriel had used the Lightning Stick when it had misbehaved, and the pain of that was worse than a thousand needles, a thousand cuts. It had keened and wailed, eyes begging for the pain to stop, but DrSandy had been there, and DrSandy liked to see it hurt, liked watching it scream and cry in its guttural, broken voice. It made him laugh.

It had known that trying to attack DrSandy was a Bad Thing, but it had seen the Sleep Needle in his hand, and it had remembered what happened the last time the Sleep Needle was used on it. The needle didn’t mean it really slept, just that it couldn’t fight. And that meant that DrSandy could do whatever he wanted. The memory of that had galvanized it, and it had attacked. DrSandy had managed to land a blow that dazed it, then left with the words “Right. I’m getting Dr. Gabriel.”

It hissed in pain as the door opened and a bright light was shone in its face. Gold pupils dilated, and it covered them, whimpering against the spearing pain in its head. Shoes clicked across the cold stone floor, coming to a stop in front of it, then DrGabriel bent down and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking its head back. It whined, scrabbling to escape the implacable grip. “You’ve been very bad. You know what happens when you’re bad, don’t you?”

It shook its head frantically, eyes brimming with tears. But it knew that pleading was useless. It had seen the Lightning Stick in DrGabriel’s hand.

Seconds later, the hurting started. It was all encompassing. There was no escaping it, and all it could do was scream until its’ throat was raw and bleeding. Blood flowed from several newly opened cuts.

The hurting lasted a very, very long time. When it was over, it was limp and sobbing, the pain so intense that it was having trouble breathing. DrGabriel smiled down at it. “I trust we won’t have any more trouble?” A small, broken whimper was the only answer. “Wonderful. You know that this is all for your own good. After all, you’re an important part of Heavenly Labs. We couldn’t do any of this without you.”

The doctors left the room, leaving it alone. It whimpered and sobbed, and as it had every minute of every day for the two years it had been alive and imprisoned down here, it prayed for a savior.

But it seemed they were in short supply these days.


	2. A Disgraced Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale heads to Heaven hoping for a second chance.

Chapter Two: A Disgraced Angel

The prisoner whimpered, trying not to move too much. DrSandy had been in its cell earlier, and it hadn’t been able to react in time to stop him using the Sleep Needle. It felt torn up inside, and it could smell the blood and the...other thing that dried in a sticky mass on its thighs. DrSandy had left whistling, zipping himself up with a sigh of satisfaction. The prisoner knew what was coming next, and no matter how much it braced itself, it still would never fully be ready.

The cell door opened, and once again it was blinded by the piercing bright light. Whining, it tried to make itself as small as possible, so that the Hose couldn’t hurt as much. A jet of powerful water slammed into it, shocking out what little breath it had. The freezing water went deep into its bones, and it keened in pain. “There now,” said a false friendly voice that it thought maybe was DrMichael’s, “let’s get you all clean.” It knew DrMichael wasn’t the one doing the Hosing, she was far too important for that. It was probably Ligur, her helper. Ligur liked hurting it with the Hose.

It whimpered, shivering. Its wings were soaked, but it knew from bitter experience that trying to shake off the water while being Hosed only made the punishment last longer. “I think that’s sufficient, Mr. Ligur. It’s all nice and clean now.” The Hose was turned off, and it heard rather than saw the door close before it was once again plunged into darkness.

Miles away, in a flat above a bookshop in the Soho district of London, a man lay asleep in a mussed up bed, buried under blankets, the only visible thing his golden hair. Under the covers, he held a half empty bottle of whiskey in his plump hands. His eyes moved and twitched, and his face was grim. He was having The Dream again. He didn’t like when he had The Dream. It meant that he started drinking much earlier, because he would wake up panting and need a drink to calm his racing heart. Which turned into another to stop his shakes. And another to stop the memories.

There was an alarm going off. That hadn’t been in The Dream before. There was blood, and screaming, and the feeling of being buried in wet cement, but there had never been an alarm. It was rather an odd one, too. Sounded exactly like…

With a curse, the man shot awake, grabbing for his phone off the nightstand. The whiskey bottle thunked to the floor, the last drops gurgling out onto the carpet. “Bloody buggering fuck.” The man groaned, then fumbled to push the answer button on his mobile. “H’lo?”

“Good morning, Aziraphale.” Anathema. Of bloody course it was his bloody cousin. “How’re you doing?”

Aziraphale Fell, former trauma surgeon at Soho General, groaned, rubbing his face. “Just lovely. Apart from the fact that in the space of two weeks I lost a patient, my job, and am in serious danger of losing my license, everything is just fucking lovely. How about you?” He staggered out of bed, picking up the whiskey bottle. Aha! A few drops still left. He upended the bottle, and they dripped onto his tongue. “How goes the prophecy business?”

“It’s going fine.” Anathema always sounded so bloody nice. Aziraphale wished just once she would yell at him. He could handle yelling. He couldn’t handle nice. “Aziraphale...you know what happened wasn’t your fault, right?”

Aziraphale found some eggs in his stuttering fridge and set about making himself some breakfast. “Ana, I operated on a patient drunk off my skull. As a result, the patient, who may I remind you was a four year old girl, died. The only reason I’m not being sued by the parents is because they were both DOA. How is that not my fault?” Silence on the other end. “That’s what I thought. Why did you call me?”

“You remember Newt?”

Aziraphale whisked his eggs. “That nervous man you had over for Thanksgiving last year? What about him?”

“Weelll...he saw something in the paper that might be of interest to you. Here, I’ll read it.” There was a rustling sound, then Ana cleared her throat and read. “Heavenly Labs looking for doctor to assist with Secret Project. Must be able to perform minor surgeries as needed and willing to sign an NDA. Apply in person to Dr Gabriel Arch with credentials.” There was another rustling as the paper was set down. “Might be worth a shot.”

Aziraphale snorted. Somebody, but he needed a bloody drink! “Anathema, I love you, but you are batty if you think I stand a chance. Dr. Gabriel would take one look at me and send me packing.”

“Weren’t you saying just last week that you needed to get out of Soho before it destroyed you? This could be your chance. Tadfield’s a lovely place, and who knows, maybe it’s the change you needed.”

Aziraphale groaned. “If I don’t do this, you’re going to badger me until I cave, aren’t you?” A very pointed silence. “Fine! I’ll head over there in a few hours.”

“Good.” Anathema hung up, and Aziraphale sat down to eat his scrambled eggs, a cup of very black coffee(with a generous splash of brandy) in front of him. Outside it was cold and drizzly, reflecting his mood.

It wasn’t that Aziraphale hadn’t heard of Heavenly Labs. Of course he had. All of bloody England had, especially of the strides they were making in the medical field. To be working for them seemed like an impossible dream. Still, he knew his cousin, and he knew that if he didn’t at least try, she would hound him until he was driven batty.

So it was that one hour later, having taken a cold shower and dressing in his nicest outfit, he found himself on the bus to Tadfield, taking the occasional nip from his flask for courage. He was smart enough not to take too many sips of courage, though. Better to wait until the inevitable rejection before doing that.

Not so deep down, Aziraphale knew he had a serious problem. There were flyers up all over the hospital about places that helped people like him. He had even gone to one, but quit after a week. Everyone there was so sanctimonious, so holier than thou, and the emphasis on religion made Aziraphale, an extremely lasped Protestant, supremely uncomfortable.

The bus ground to a halt, jolting him out of a fitful sleep. “Tadfield! All off!” Aziraphale put his flask in his bag and stood up, staggering his way to the front. He smiled somewhat sickly at the driver.

“Excuse me, could you point me in the direction of Heavenly Labs?”

The driver smiled. “Y’can’t miss it, mate. That big white building on top of Tadfield Hill.” Aziraphale looked.

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Twenty minutes later, Aziraphale found himself sitting in a horribly lumpy and uncomfortable chair facing Dr Gabriel Arch, the Head Researcher for Heavenly Labs, Aziraphale’s resume in front of him. He had disliked Gabriel from that first glance, recognizing instantly the smug demeanor concealed beneath a thin veneer of friendliness and camaraderie. Aziraphale shifted, trying in vain to get comfortable and wishing that Dr. Arch would get this over with so he could go check into a hotel somewhere and drink. “Well, I have to say your resume is the most promising. Though I am concerned by the ‘former trauma surgeon’ bit.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I...no longer work at Soho General. There was an...incident, and it was agreed that my best course of action was to resign.” Actually, it had been more like the Chief Surgeon had told him to either quit or be fired. Aziraphale had chosen the former. “I...really was hoping to get a second chance here.” He had rehearsed that line on the bus, and he hoped it made him sound desperate enough. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his (dry) eyes, adding in a false sniffle for good measure. “Being a doctor is all I know. Please, give me a chance. I’ll prove myself, I promise.” He let his voice crack a little at the end.

Luckily, either his acting skills were very good(they weren’t) or Dr. Arch was very gullible(he was) because the next thing Aziraphale knew, his hand was being grabbed and shaken very vigorously. “You’re hired, Dr. Fell. Welcome aboard. Now.” Dr. Arch reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Got some stuff for you to sign. All above board, I promise you. Just the standard agreement that if you ever quit, you won’t reveal our research or try to sell it for ‘nefarious purposes,’ that sort of thing.” He smiled that false smile again. Aziraphale’s dislike of him increased. He took a pen and scribbled his name at the indicated areas. “Great. Now, if you’ll come with me, I’ll show you your...project.”

Aziraphale followed him down a blinding white corridor to a lift at the far end. Dr. Arch opened it with a key, then pressed the button to go down. “Now, I want to prepare you. This..what you’re going to see will no doubt be a shock, but you’ll get used to it very quickly.” The lift dinged to a halt and the doors opened, revealing a black, gaping maw. Dr. Arch took a torch out of his pocket and flicked it on. “Come along, Dr. Fell.” Heart pounding in fear and unease, Aziraphale followed.

“Bloody freezing down here!”

“Yes, but it’s necessary, I assure you.” Dr Arch stopped in front of what Aziraphale could barely make out as a door. There was a vague person shaped shadow in front. “Ah, Dr. Sandalphon. This is Dr. Fell He’s going to...take care of it.”

“Wonderful.”

Dr. Arch smiled and unlocked the door. Aziraphale tried to see into the dark room. There was...something huddled in the corner, and Aziraphale could hear a low, keening whimper. “Sandy, please turn on the lights for our new employee.”

“Sure thing, Dr. Arch.” There was a clicking sound, and the room flooded with an intensely bright light.

And Aziraphale got a very good look at the occupant.


	3. A Small Light in The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale meets his patient and gives him a name.

Chapter Three: A Small Light in the Dark

There was someone new in the cell. The new one smelled like apples and something else that the prisoner couldn’t identify, but reminded it of the burning liquid that DrSandy had once shoved down its throat. The liquid had made it cough and choke, which made DrSandy laugh and pour even more of the liquid down its throat. It heard DrGabriel say “DrFell”, so that must be the new person’s name. It whimpered. New doctor was never good. New doctor meant that there soon would come Cutting and Hurting. It tried to make itself as small as possible, make itself less of a target.

Aziraphale pinched himself, hard. The pain flared up, but the scene before him didn’t change, so nope, not dreaming. He really was looking at a naked man with wings. A man who appeared to be the victim of horrific abuse, if the innumerable wounds and scars covering his body were any indication. A man who was curled up in the corner, shaking like a leaf in a gale and whimpering steadily. “What...the...fuck.”

Dr. Arch clapped him on the shoulder in what he thought was a friendly manner. “I told you, it’s a lot to take in. This is the secret to Heavenly Lab’s success. It’s...special. I can’t tell you everything, but suffice to say it has a very unique genetic makeup.”

Aziraphale gulped. “It’s...is it human?”

Dr Arch grinned. The grin did not reach his eyes. “Maybe it was at one point, but it’s not now. Now it’s just a means to an end, and as I said, a very important part of Heavenly Labs. Now, as to your job.” Aziraphale was still staring at the man, only half listening. “Dr. Fell!”

“Huh?”

Dr. Arch rubbed his forehead. “We hired you because there’s more research to be done using it, but none of us are surgeons. There’s only so much we can learn from drawing its blood and taking spinal fluid and tissue samples. We need to go deeper, to get into the meat, so to speak. Therefore, we need a surgeon.”

Aziraphale blinked, then turned and stared in horrified shock at Dr. Arch. “You want me to vivisect him?!” He shouted, face red with anger. The man whined, pressing himself against the wall as if he was trying to vanish inside it. “I am a doctor, not a fucking butcher! I refuse!”

Dr. Arch smiled grimly. “You can’t refuse. You signed the agreement.”

“Fuck the agreement! I will not do it!”

Dr. Arch shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Dr. Fell. You see, I happen to be very good friends with several members of the Medical Board thanks to the medical advances we’ve made. It would take one phone call from me to assure that not only were you stripped of your license, but that you were thrown in jail due to neglect.” He smiled at the horrified look on Aziraphale’s face. “Oh yes, I know all about you. Did you think I didn’t look you up? I hired you because I knew you had everything to lose and nothing to gain. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to cut open that thing, and maybe, just maybe I won’t have to make those calls.”

Aziraphale gulped. He had no choice. “Fine. But not here. If I’m going to...to operate, I want a clean room.”

Dr. Arch grinned. “Sure thing, Dr. Oh, Sandy prep the..prep it for surgery.”

Dr. Sandy grinned. It made Aziraphale’s blood run cold, that grin. He left the cell and came back with a rather large syringe in one hand and a restraint in the other. “Have to sedate it, otherwise it makes a huge fuss being moved. Dr. Arch, should we maybe get the baton as well?”

Dr. Arch looked thoughtful, then walked over to the man and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking his head up. The man keened in horror. “You going to be good, or will I have to get the baton?” The man shook his head in frantic terror. “Speak, you fucking piece of shit!”

“Be good! Not hurt! Be good!” His voice was hoarse and broken. Tears poured down his dirty face. “Be good. Not hurt.”

“Good. Dr. Sandy, if you would.”

“Not use Sleep Needle! Please no! Be good! No Needle!” The last word was nearly screamed. Dr. Arch snorted.

“Shut up.”

Aziraphale could only watch in frozen shock as Sandalphon(he refused to think of either of them as doctors anymore) plunged the syringe into the man’s arm. The man shrieked like a demon. Sandalphon threw the restraint over his neck, drawing the collar taut and cutting off his air. The man collapsed, gasping and sobbing. “Right. Up you get, scum!” Sandalphon yanked him to his feet. The man stumbled and almost fell, his wings flaring out for balance. Gabriel turned to Aziraphale.“Come on, Dr. Fell, I’ll take you to the operating room.” They left, leaving Sandalphon and the other man alone.

“Right, let’s get you cleaned up before we take you out of here. Time for you to make yourself useful again.”

It knew where it was being taken. It knew that before the Cutting, there was the Hose. DrArch wanted it clean, after all. And since it was restrained, it couldn’t huddle in on itself to make the Hose hurt less. The only time it was ever taken out of the cell was when DrArch wanted to Hurt it. He said it was for research, but why did research Hurt? Why did research mean needles and cutting and blood and pain and pleading and begging and crying and wanting to die but knowing DrArch wouldn’t like that because it would mean no more Research?

Cold, wet, and shivering, it was dragged from its cell into the Room That Hurt.

Apple smelling doctor was there, and it thought that he looked almost sad. But that couldn’t be right. Doctors were never sad. They were thrilled to hurt it. It was for the Greater Good, after all. “Oh, you poor creature. I am so sorry for this.”

DrSandy had strapped it to The Table. It knew what came next. Cutting and needles. Its wings hurt. It wanted to spread them out, but they had been tied to The Table after an incident where it had almost knocked DrMichael out with a blow from the left one. It wondered what New Hurt Apple Smelling Doctor would give it.

Aziraphale wanted to vomit. The man strapped to the table looked so scared, so vulnerable. What had happened to him? Why was his speech so guttural and broken? Why was he kept in what was basically a dungeon? And why the hell did he have wings?! They were huge, twice the size of a swan’s wings, and they appeared to be almost a part of him.

His reverie was broken by a man with dirty blond hair coming into the room with a tray of surgical instruments. “You Dr. Fell?” Aziraphale nodded. “M’name’s Hastur. I’m gonna be helping you with this thing.” He indicated Aziraphale’s patient. “Y’don’t have to worry ‘bout killin’ it, it’s pretty damn resilient.”

“Are you the anesthesiologist?”

‘Hastur’ snorted in derision. “No anesthesia for that thing. It doesn’t work on it. Messes up the results or genes or somehin’ like that. Nah, I’m just here to make sure it don’t try to snap its restraints.” He grinned, showing teeth that would make a dentist weep. “Best get to it, Doc.”

Shaking, Aziraphale took a scalpel and approached the man. “I am so, so sorry. I only hope you can forgive me.”

“No hurt. Please. No hurt.” Aziraphale gulped. The man was nearly sobbing. “Please. I good. No hurt, please.” Aziraphale looked at the scalpel in his hand. “Hastur?”

“Yeah?”

Aziraphale turned to him. “I don’t think you’ll be necessary. He’s restrained, and I’m stronger than I look. If anything happens, I’m sure I can handle it.” He smiled, hoping it was convincing enough.

Unfortunately, Hastur wasn’t as gullible as Gabriel. “No can do, Doc. I’ve got strict orders from the Boss to not leave this room until you’ve done as told. So get a move on, and we can all get out of here.”

What followed was the worst three hours of Aziraphale’s life. He tried his best to be as gentle as he could, but surgery still involved sharp instruments, and without any anesthesia the pain would be even worse. The man whimpered, begged, and pleaded for him to stop.

Finally, Aziraphale got what he hoped Gabriel wanted. The man looked human for all intents and purposes, but Aziraphale had gotten the deep tissue samples that indicated that he might be something more. He stitched him up, trying not to cry. “I am so, so sorry. I swear.” The man didn’t answer. He had passed out hours ago.

“Right, I’ll get it back to its cell.” Hastur came forward, and Aziraphale felt a surge of rage.

“ **Absolutely not.”** Hastur blinked at the vitriol in his voice. “This man is my patient, and I will not allow him to return to that..that dungeon! You can tell Gabriel that unless he is given a **proper** room, I will walk out of here and damn what he does to me. Am I clear?” 

So it was that the prisoner found itself waking up in a strange, bright room with Apple Smelling Doctor smiling gently down at it. “Hello.” 

It whimpered, huddling in on itself. “Where?” 

Apple Doctor smiled again. It was a Nice Smile. “I had you moved out of that horrid cell. If I’m to be your doctor, I think you should at least have a clean place to sleep.” He gently placed his hand on its shoulder. “My name’s Aziraphale, by the way. Do you have a name?” 

It blinked. Did it have a name? It must have. Everything had a name. It was...was…

“No name.” 

Aziraphale frowned. “Well, now that won’t do. I’ll have to give you one. Let’s see. Your wings are black, like a raven...or a crow’s. Hmm..Crow..no, that doesn’t quite work.” He stroked his chin in thought. “Hmm...I had a friend growing up named Lee. Crow Lee. Crow..lee...Crowley. How’s that sound?” 

“Crowley.” A small smile. “Is good name.” A shy glance. “Is my name?” 

Aziraphale grinned and nodded. 

The man...Crowley beamed. “I have name! I Crowley!” 

Aziraphale beamed back. 


	4. A Touch Like Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale takes care of Crowley, and we get glimpses into the past...

Chapter Four: A Touch Like Sunlight

HEAVENLY LABS, ONCE UPON A TIME

_**Click** There is the whirl of a recorder starting, then the sound of someone clearing their throat. _

“ _I don’t know if anyone will ever hear this. Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll even finish this. It all depends on the dosage I’ve been given and how fast I can talk before it takes effect. But I have to record this. If not for the person who finds this, then for me. I have to put the truth on tape_

_The truth. The..._ ***there’s a pause as the speaker coughs for several moments*** _Fuck, working quicker than I thought. The truth is, Gabriel did this. He..._ ***another series of coughs*** _FUCK, that hurts. Feels like I’m coughing up my guts. And I can feel myself slipping. I’m going to have to make this fast...”_

TADFIELD, NOW

Aziraphale stared at the shelf in front of him. Who the hell knew there were so many different types of shampoo? There was shampoo for dry hair, shampoo for oily hair, shampoo for dandruff control, men’s shampoo, women’s shampoo, shampoo shaped like a koala bear. Aziraphale, who up until moving here had gone to the barber’s once a week to have his hair washed and trimmed, was overwhelmed by choice. “Excuse me?” He asked the rather garishly made up lady who was on the aisle next to him, peering intently at something called ‘bath bombs’, “Which shampoo would you recommend?”

She smiled at him. “Well, that depends, dearie. What sort of hair you have, stuff like that. But for me, I find this one works best.” She pulled a bright green bottle off the shelf. “Does wonders for my hair.”

“Would it...work on someone with long hair?” Aziraphale opened the cap and sniffed it, smiling to himself. The shampoo smelled like apples. Crowley had seemed to like that scent, if yesterday had been any indication…

“Apple.”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale had looked up from his notes(at his insistence, a chair had been brought in so he could sit and go over his surgical notes-as sick as what he had done made him, he still was a creature of habit and took meticulous notes) to see Crowley crouched next to him, his nostrils flaring.

“You. Apple”

Aziraphale blinked. “I...don’t understand.” Crowley shuffled forward, nuzzling his arm.

“Smell like apple. Az...ir...”

“Aziraphale. And really?” He sniffed his arm. To him, it didn’t smell like apples, but he didn’t want to hurt Crowley’s feelings. Crowley nodded decisively.

“Apple.” With that being said, he scooted back to the corner, staring at his hands and cooing softly to himself.

“...by the way.” Aziraphale blinked. The lady had said something.

“I’m so sorry, I got lost in thought. What was that?” Luckily, the lady looked more amused than exasperated.

“That’s all right, dear, it happens. I said my name’s Tracy Shadwell. My husband and I own this store.”

Aziraphale shook the proffered hand. “Aziraphale Fell. I just started working at Heavenly Labs.”

Mrs. Shadwell lit up. “Oh, how lucky for you! It’s been a godsend, it deciding to move here to Tadfield!”

‘Yes,’ Aziraphale thought bitterly, ‘lucky me.’ He knew without even having to think that the townspeople didn’t know about Crowley’s existence(and a bitter, cynical part of him whispered that they wouldn’t care if they did, or just act like it was a necessary evil). “It’s an...experience, that’s for sure.” He placed two of the green bottles of shampoo in his basket, which was already starting to burst at the seams. “Thank you for all your help, Mrs. Shadwell.”

“Oh, none of that now. Call me Tracy. I’ll help you get all checked out, Aziraphale.” She smiled. “What an unusual name.”

“Yes, isn’t it.”

Mr. Shadwell(or Witchfinder Sergeant, as the man insisted he was called) redefined the word ‘eccentric’. Aziraphale didn’t think he’d heard so much talk about nipples since his days in residency. He had managed to extract himself from a meandering ramble about witches and their ilk only by Tracy gently reminding her husband that some people had places to be. Relieved, Aziraphale left the shop and headed towards the block of flats a few streets over.

His flat was on the second floor of the third building. It was larger than the one he had had in Soho(not that that was surprising, a cracker box turned on its end would have been larger than his Soho flat) and it had a lovely view of the town square. Aziraphale had deliberately chosen it, not for that view but for the fact that he couldn’t see Heavenly Labs. Bad enough he had to work there without having to see the ugly thing when he was home.

He put away the perishables and sat down on the sofa(the flat had come furnished), knocking the top off a bottle of cheap whiskey and taking a long drink. Two days. It had been two days since he moved here, and already he was starting to regret every life choice that had led him here. Damn his drinking. (He took a drink.) Damn his boss, well, his ex-boss at the hospital. (He took another) Damn Anathema for talking him into this. (Another, and now the room was starting to spin) Damn his idea to go into medicine in the first place. (Another, and Aziraphale slumped sideways on the sofa, holding tight to the bottle). Damn his parents for giving him such a weird name. (A final swallow). The empty bottle slipped out of his fingers and thunked to the floor. “Bugger fuck.” He hauled himself upright and staggered into the kitchen. Dinner. He should probably make dinner.

His hangover wasn’t too bad the next morning(the elephant stomping around his brain had left his drum at home, and he only felt like shit rather than complete shit). He showered, shaved, and dressed before making himself his standby hangover breakfast of eggs, toast, and very, VERY strong coffee. After finishing, he left for work, making sure to take the unopened bottle of shampoo with him.

Crowley crouched in the corner, whimpering. Apple Doctor wasn’t here. Why wasn’t he here? Had Crowley done something Bad? He didn’t think he had. He had told Apple Doctor he smelled like apple, and Apple Doctor had smiled the Nice Smile and said thank you. DrArch had come in earlier, and Crowley had been sure he was going back to the Dark Room. But DrArch had smiled. He did not have a Nice Smile. “Guess I’m more of a softie than I thought.” Crowley hadn’t looked at him. DrArch stalked over, grabbing his hair and yanking him up to look into his eyes. “But know this, you fucking freak. I’m only doing this because I need Aziraphale’s medical expertise. The minute...the SECOND I find out what I need, I’m sending him packing and you are going back to that hole you belong in. Am I clear?”

Crowley whined. “Hurts!” He yelped in pain when DrArch slapped him hard across the face.

“You didn’t answer my question, Sunshine.”

“Clear!”

DrArch grinned and released him. Crowley slumped to the floor, softly crying. “How the mighty have fallen.” He turned on his heel and left, leaving Crowley alone. He stared at the door, wondering where Apple Doctor was….

**[The tape recorder clicks again, and there is the sound of someone breathing harshly. The same voice continues speaking**

“ _I should never have shared my research with him. Should never have told him about the cocktail, and about...it. I should have known he would take it and twist it into something it was never meant to be used for. I suppose there’s no one else to blame but me. But hindsight, as they say, is twenty twenty….”]_

The door opened, and Crowley whimpered in relief. Apple Doctor was here! He had something in his hand. Crowley hoped it was something Nice. “Apple Doctor!”

Apple Doctor laughed. “Aziraphale, my dear boy.”

Crowley made a face. “Can’t say. You...Angel. Call you Angel. What that?” He pointed at the bottle.

Angel held it up. “It’s shampoo. I thought maybe I could do something about your hair. Get it clean, find out what color it is under all that dirt. Maybe get you cleaned up, too.”

Crowley felt his heart plunge to his stomach. He had been right. Ang..Apple Doctor only wanted to Hurt. “No, please no use Hose! I be good, please no Hose!”

“Hose?” Angel looked confused, then upset. “Oh! Oh, no, my dear, no. I would never! But, as I doubt there’s any bathing facilities around here, I shall have to get creative. Be back in a tick.” He left, leaving Crowley alone, scared, and confused.

Cleaning always meant the Hose. It meant cold. It meant Hurt. Crowley bit his lip, shaking. He had been so hopeful…

Angel came back in, holding a bucket in both hands. “Good thing I’m trained in giving sponge baths.” He set the buckets down next to Crowley. One of them had water, the other had a strange green liquid that smelled like apples. He stuck his finger in it. It was warm. Crowley stuck the finger in his mouth and made a disgusted face. “Blegh. Not taste nice.”

Angel laughed. “You aren’t supposed to eat it, you silly thing!”

“Why smell like apple if not food?” Crowley asked, cocking his head at the green liquid. Angel blinked.

“I...that’s a good question. But to get to the point. I’m going to get you cleaned up. Just waiting on one more thing.” There was a knock at the door, and Angel went to answer it. It was one of the interns, holding a pile of sponges, washcloths, a towel, and a large tooth comb. “Oh, thank you so much. Do I owe you anything?”

“Nah, it’s good.” The intern left, and Angel came back over.

“Hmm. I think perhaps the easiest way to do this would be if I brought my chair over here.” He dragged the chair over and sat down. “Now, you sit crosslegged, facing the wall.” Crowley, mind churning, obeyed. “Okay, I’m going to get your hair wet now. If the water’s too hot, tell me.” He dipped a sponge into the first bucket, squeezed out the excess water, then gently placed it on Crowley’s scalp. The man yipped. “Crowley?”

“Feels nice. Like sun. Warm.” Wait, how did he know that? He had never seen the sun. He didn’t know what Warm was. Crowley shivered. “F..feels nice.”

“Oh, I’m so glad.” Angel said, then proceeded to wash Crowley, telling him what he was doing with every step. “Well, look at that. There’s red under all that dirt. It’s lovely!” Angel said, his voice happy and surprised. “Now, let’s see about getting the tangles out. This might hurt a little bit.”

It hadn’t hurt at all(Angel was Very Gentle, and kept talking, distracting Crowley from any pain he might have felt) “You have beautiful hair, my dear.” Crowley blushed. Angel took a deep breath. “Crowley? Could you do me a favor, my dear? Could you spread your wings out just a bit...that’s it.” Angel’s voice was soft. “Oh, Crowley...who did this to you?”

‘Gabriel. Gabriel, Gabriel!’ Came the thought. Crowley whimpered. Angel’s hands were on his back, right between the wings. Crowley knew he was touching The Scars.

(For Aziraphale’s part, he was trying very hard not to work himself into a righteous fury at the madman who had decided to graft **wings** onto a person. And from the horrid scars, it was plain that the surgery had been an extremely painful one)

“You pitiful creature. How could someone do this to you?” Angel sighed. “I promise, I will NEVER hurt you. Never.”

Crowley found himself wanting to believe that.


	5. Glimpses and Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a look at the Beginning before going back to the middle, and Crowley gets some very special gifts.

Chapter Five: Glimpses and Gifts

To understand all that has happened up until now, we must go back to the Beginning. To a garden with an apple tree, and a young boy…

No, wait. That’s not far enough. We need to go back to before the Beginning. To a young couple, newly wed and newly in love, their hearts ready for a third addition. But Fate, God, whoever, seems to be determined that might never happen. All pregnancy attempts fail.

Then one day, idly perusing her mobile for the latest news, the woman sees an advert. There’s a daring new experimental fertilization being developed, and the study needs guinea pigs for testing. It pays well(over 20 pounds more per hour than what the woman makes at her regular office job) and promises free room and board to test subjects and their families.

So, having nothing to lose, and after talking it over with her husband, the woman signs up and is accepted as a test subject for the new drug. There are six hundred and sixty four other applicants in the test.

This will be significant later.

The testing takes nearly six months, with blood being drawn so much the woman is pretty sure she’s bone dry by the end of it. But then good news. The treatment has taken, and the woman is pregnant. The pregnancy, is, of course, carefully monitored, as are the pregnancies of all the others.

Then...disaster. Out of the six hundred plus women who participated and gave birth, over half the babies are born with defects severe enough to be life threatening, and twenty percent are born with atrophied limbs(much like the Thalidomide births back in the 20th century). Only one baby is born with no defects save for strangely golden eyes. He’s got red hair, like his father.

His mother names him Anthony.

When he is an infant, Anthony’s mother accidentally cuts his finger while trimming his nails. The child whimpers, and Anthony’s mother watches in shock as the small cut closes up of its own accord.

There are more incidents like this all through the child’s life. But then one day, Anthony takes it in his head to climb the apple tree in his neighbor’s garden. It’s past apple season, but there’s one high, high up in the branches, bright red and huge, taunting the six year old. He’s an excellent climber, scaling over the garden wall with ease.

Climbing the tree is easier, and Anthony stands, wobbling slightly, on the branch above. The apple is **just** out of reach, and he stretches, his small hand straining. 

The branch he’s standing on, which is already dry due to the lack of rainfall, and halfway rotted through due to the age of the apple tree, gives way with a heart stopping  **CRACK**

Anthony Falls. Down, down he plunges, hands cartwheeling in the air and a scream of horror on his lips. Branches snap under him. 

He lands with a thud, the breath knocked from his body, and everything goes dark. 

Ten minutes later, he comes limping back  to  his house, aching, sore, and scared,  ready for any scolding he will receive from his parents. 

(As it turns out, they’re so relieved to see him that the scoldings are averted.) 

It won’t be until years later that Anthony realizes the truth of what happened when he Fell. 

[Now that you know some of the beginning, we can go back to the middle.]

Aziraphale was in a fairly decent mood this morning. He had actually managed to go to bed without needing a drink, and had woken up early enough that he could fix himself a decent breakfast and linger over it, rather than gulping it down to alleviate the hangover. Even better, Anathema had called with the news that she and Newt were engaged. Aziraphale’s congrats had been hearty and whole felt. 

Then there was the gifts he had bought for Crowley. He really hoped they went over well, and not down like the proverbial lead balloon. 

Whistling a tune, Aziraphale stepped into the lobby of Heavenly Labs, exchanged polite greetings with Deidre, the secretary, and headed down the hall towards Crowley’s room. 

He was halfway there when he heard the scream. “NO, PLEASE NO!” It was Crowley, and he sounded like he was in mortal terror. Aziraphale, who hadn’t run since he was an intern, put on a burst of speed that would have made an Olympic sprinter impressed. 

He burst through the door, stopping dead for a few seconds at the sight in front of him. Sandalphon had Crowley pinned to the floor, one hand around his windpipe and the other...Aziraphale didn’t want to know where the other was. Crowley’s wings beat uselessly against the floor as the other man writhed and struggled. “Stop. Please stop. Hurts. Please stop.” 

“What, you thought that just because you’ve got a nice cushy room now that I’d stop our little...sessions? Hell, this is even better because now at least I don’t have to shower the grime off me when I leave. Now, be a good little animal, stop struggling, and this will be over. You know that as well as I do.” Crowley sobbed, and the sound shocked Aziraphale back into his body. 

“ _ **Get. Your. Hands. Off. Him.**_ ” Sandalphon blinked and turned, smiling at the enraged surgeon. Aziraphale stepped forward, hands clenched into fists and eyes blazing like Hellfire. _**“NOW.”**_

Sandalphon looked from Crowley, who had his eyes shut tight, a steady whimper of fear and pain coming from him, back to the furious Aziraphale. “Oh, I see how it is. Look, Doc, how about you let me finish, and then you can go next? How’s that...ERK!”

Aziraphale came forward, grabbed Sandalphon by the back of his shirt, and yanked him off Crowley. “I said _**LET GO OF HIM!**_ ” He bellowed, nearly throwing the other man across the room.

Though he didn’t look it, Aziraphale was very strong. Sandalphon landed in a heap, blood flowing from his nose. “ **Get. Out.”** The surgeon snarled. 

“Fine. Okay, I’m going. You can have the slut all to yourself, as far as I care.” 

He left, and Aziraphale was at Crowley’s side in a heartbeat. “Crowley? Dear, it’s me. Open your eyes.” 

“A..Angel?” Crowley’s voice was thick with tears. Aziraphale felt his heart crack. 

“Yes, love, it’s me.” 

Crowley opened his eyes. Angel was there, looking so sad, so...gentle. Before he fully realized what was happening, Crowley  surged up and into Angel’s arms. Angel gasped in shock, but then those arms wrapped around Crowley, and for the first time in his life, he was being held. 

Crowley began sobbing, great, gasping, heaving sobs that shook his entire body. It seemed to last for hours, and Angel kept holding him, stroking his spine and whispering in his ear that he was safe. 

When it was over, Crowley felt dizzy and light headed. “Wet.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Your shirt. Got wet. Sorry.”

Angel chuckled softly. “My dear, you do not need to apologize. It will dry.” Crowley sniffled. 

“Not mad?” 

“Never.” Crowley smiled shyly, and Angel smiled back. Crowley loved it when Angel smiled. It was so nice, so sincere. “You know, I got you a few things last night. Will you let me get them?” 

Crowley was torn. On one hand, nobody had ever gotten him anything, and he was eager to see what they could be. On the other, Angel was so warm and soft. “Angel come back? Hold more?” 

“Gladly. They’re just outside.” Aziraphale gently extracted himself from Crowley and went out to the hall, where the bag lay on its side after he had thrown it to the floor. He picked it up, checking to be sure that the presents were intact, then went back inside, sitting on the floor next to Crowley, who proceeded to climb into his lap, wrapping his arms and wings around him. 

“Angel warm. Soft. Nice.” 

“Oh. Well...thank you.” Aziraphale pulled Crowley close with one arm, smiling at him. “Right. First present.” He reached into the bag and pulled out an item of clothing. Crowley blinked at it. 

“What those?” 

“Pants. Well, pajama pants, really. Look, they have apples on them! I thought...maybe you’d like to be clothed.” Angel handed the ‘pants’ over. They were soft. “I really couldn’t find any shirts for you, not that you’d be able to wear any to begin with, but I figured pants would work, and you wouldn’t have to be naked, and..”

“What naked?” 

Angel blinked. “Umm...it’s...what you are.” Crowley looked confused. “It’s when you have no clothes on.” 

“Angel not naked?” Crowley tilted his head. “Why Angel apple colored?” 

Aziraphale was indeed sporting a very deep blush. “No, Angel is clothed. Crowley should also be clothed. Stand up, and I’ll help you with these things.” 

The pants fit very nicely. “Crowley clothed?” 

“Yes, and you look very nice. Now, I have one more thing for you.” Aziraphale reached into the bag, pulling out another object. “This is Oscar. He’s very special to me.” 

‘Oscar’ was a stuffed unicorn with black fur and a rainbow colored horn. Crowley cocked his head. “What that?” 

Angel went apple colored again. “Well, he’s...sort of a...friend. I’ve had him since I was little, and he’s always comforted me when I was sad. And...well...you need him more than I do. I...can’t always be with you, which I hate, but at least when I’m not around, you’ll...have something of me.” He pressed ‘Oscar’ into Crowley’s arms. 

Crowley sniffed the creature. “Smells like Angel! Is Crowley’s?” Angel nodded, and Crowley cooed happily, rubbing his face against the animal. “Soft.” Angel smiled. “Crowley give Angel something?” 

“My dear, you don’t have to..”

Crowley nodded decisively. “Crowley give Angel something.” He reached behind his back and plucked out a feather, pressing it into Aziraphale’s hand. “Now Angel have something of Crowley’s!” 

“Oh, Crowley. Thank you. Thank you so much.” 


	6. Resurrections and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get more insight into the past, and Crowley makes a shocking revelation.

Chapter Six: Resurrections and Revelations

[The tape recorder clicks on again. There are several minutes when all that can be heard is someone breathing rapidly. Finally, the person gets themselves under control and speaks.

“Okay, took a shot of digitalis. Should get my heart going just enough so I can finish this damn thing. Fuck, where was I? (there is the sound of coughing) Oh, right. I remember.

I was twelve when Mum told me the truth of what happened that Day. Turns out I hadn’t just knocked myself out falling out of the tree, I had, for all intents and purposes, been dead for nearly ten minutes. See, the old bat that owned the tree had seen my fall and called the ambulance. Apparently the medics were all prepared to announce me as DOA when I sat up(like a jack in the box, I’ve heard) and asked where I was. EMTs of course chalked it up to faulty equipment, because a kid coming back from the dead is comic book stuff, right? Only it wasn’t.

“So, I’m twelve, and my cousin Bea and I are in Bea’s pool. They pool’s got a diving board, but it’s more for show, cuz the pool isn’t deep enough. But Bea being, well, themselves, they kept daring me to dive off it, saying they’d done it lots of times and never gotten hurt. And Bea can be pretty fucking persistent.

I’ve dove before(Dad taught me before he split for places unknown, and good riddance to the rat bastard) so I figured it would be easy. I don’t know what happened. Maybe the board was slipperier than I thought. Maybe I didn’t launch in time. Either way, I slipped and my head hit just right. Sounded like a melon being whacked with a hammer. The last thing I hear is Bea screaming my name.

Fifteen minutes later, I open my eyes and sit up. My head’s pounding like a fucking brass band, but other than that I’m okay. I’m in the living room, so someone must have moved me.

(There is a long pause as the speaker coughs violently)

“Pretty sure I gave everyone a heart attack when I woke up. See, my neck had been broken. Like, kill you instantly broken, not just paralyzed for life broken.

Mum took me to doctor after doctor, all of whom ran test after test after test on me. Not one of them could figure out why the fuck I kept coming back to life. So I decided, fuck it, I’ll figure it out on my own.

(there is a series of clicks)

“Shit, tape’s run out. I’ll have to finish this later. I just hope I can.”]

Crowley huddled in the corner, Oscar clutched to his chest as tears flowed down his face. DrArch had not been happy about Oscar, and had tried to take him away from Crowley. Crowley had hissed at him so vehemently that DrArch had used both the Lightning Stick and the Belt, but still Crowley had clung to the toy. Finally, DrArch had snorted in contempt, looking down at the shivering wreck that Crowley had become. “Fine! Whatever! Let it keep the stupid fucking thing! What the fuck do I care?!”

Crowley whined, burying his nose in Oscar’s rainbow colored mane. It smelled like Angel. Crowley wished Angel was here, but it was Dark out(something Crowley only knew because everyone went Home when it was Dark) so that meant he wouldn’t see Angel until he slept and woke up again.

His whines slowly turned into soft coos as Crowley felt sleep claim him, the unicorn still clutched in his hands.

In his flat, Aziraphale was in the process of falling off the wagon in a spectacular fashion. He had had The Dream again, and screamed himself awake. It had started out the same, but then Crowley had shown up, and it had somehow taken a turn for the worse.

Now Aziraphale sat on the floor in his living room(he had slipped off the sofa some hours ago, and it was the only thing propping him up) staring bleary-eyed at the far wall, which he was pretty sure was starting to move. “Stop that.” He ordered it, taking a swig from the bottle of scotch. Being a wall, it of course did not answer. “STOP MOVING!” He flung the bottle, and it smashed against the wall, shattering to pieces. “Oh, fuck donkeys.” Aziraphale swore under his breath.

He considered trying to get up and getting the wine from the fridge, but his legs seemed to have deserted him. Oh well. There was still that bottle of rum on the table. He fumbled for it, crying in triumph when it sloshed. He took a long swallow, wincing at the burn.

There was something black on the table. Aziraphale blinked owlishly at it, his sozzled brain not quite sure what it was. He picked it up, blinking hard as he tried to figure out which of the two black things was the real one. He poked at them, and the one on the right was solid. It was...a feather.

Crowley’s feather.

Aziraphale burst into tears. Crowley had given him this precious gift, and rather than treat it with the reverence and respect it deserved, he had tossed it onto his coffee table like it was just something he had found while on a morning stroll. Fuck, he really was the worst sort of person.

Sniffling, he stroked the feather. It felt...odd, not like any feather he’d ever touched before. It wasn’t a bad odd(it was rather nice, actually) but it was odd nonetheless. He stroked it the other way, then yelped in pain as something bit into his finger.

He stuck it in his mouth without thinking, grimacing at the coppery tang of blood. He looked at the cut. Deep, but not too bad. A plaster would be sufficient. The feather had a tiny drop of blood on it. “Shit.” He somehow got to his feet and swayed into the kitchen, grabbing the walls for balance.

Aziraphale carefully washed off the feather, patting it dry with a soft towel. He picked the feather up and turned it over, staring at the underside. There was **something** there, but Aziraphale was still too pie eyed to make it out. He fumbled into the bathroom and found a plaster, sticking it on his cut. 

He stumbled into his bedroom and collapsed into bed, still holding on to the feather. 

His hangover the next morning was one of the worst he’d had in a long while. He lay in bed for several moments, pretty sure he was dead. No living person could have felt as shitty as he did and still be alive. 

There was a strange ringing sound in his ears. Aziraphale really wished it would stop. But it kept going, and he realized it was his phone. He grumbled and grabbed it. “Mmmf?” The voice that came from the other end was so loud that Aziraphale had to hold the phone away to keep from going deaf. 

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, DR. FELL?! YOUR SHIFT STARTED THIRTY GODDAMN MINUTES AGO, AND YOUR CHARGE HAS BEEN GOING CRAZY! IT’S TEARING UP THE FUCKING ROOM AND SCREAMING FOR YOU! IF YOU AREN’T DOWN HERE IN TEN FUCKING MINUTES, I AM THROWING IT BACK WHERE IT WAS AND I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL THROW THAT FUCKING UNICORN IN THE INCINERATOR!” 

His tirade finished, Gabriel hung up, leaving Aziraphale blinking at his screen. “Shit shit shit shit!” He bolted out of bed, took what was probably the world’s fastest shower, then threw on his clothes from the day before and ran out of the apartment. 

He could hear Crowley screaming as he came down the hall,  along with sound of banging . “WANT ANGEL! WHERE ANGEL?! WANT ANGEL!” There was a group of interns clustered around the door, ears pressed to the wood. Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Ahem.” They turned, guilty looks on their faces. Aziraphale tried his best to look authoritative. “I’m sure you lot have better things to do. Clear off now.”  To his surprise, they obeyed. 

Aziraphale opened the door and stepped into the room, stopping dead at the sight in front of him. 

Crowley was throwing himself against the walls, bouncing off them like a pinball in a machine. His eyes were screwed shut, and he was screeching “WANT ANGEL WANT ANGEL WANT ANGEL” over and over. 

“Crowley! Crowley, I’m here! I’m here! Stop!” No answer. The screech was nearly unbearable, it was so loud. Aziraphale came forward and grabbed the other man, tackling him to the floor. Crowley **howled** , struggling to escape. Aziraphale straddled him, and Crowley went insane, bucking and writhing, screaming at a pitch Aziraphale was sure would shatter his eardrums. “Crowley! STOP!” He bent down, placing his mouth by Crowley’s ear. “Crowley. It’s Angel. It’s me. You need to stop now.” 

“NOT ANGEL! NOT ANGEL! SMELL DIFFERENT! NOT ANGEL!” 

Aziraphale realized that Crowley smelled the booze that still lingered on him. “I know, but it’s me. Open your eyes, love. C’mon, open them. I promise, it’s me.” 

Golden eyes cracked open. “A..Angel?” Aziraphale nodded, then yelped as Crowley threw himself into his arms, shuddering. “Weren’t here. Woke up. Angel not here. Got scared. Why Angel not here?” 

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. I...didn’t have a good sleep last night, and, well, I took some stuff.” 

“Is that why smell different?” 

“Yes, it is. I’m so sorry I scared you.” 

Crowley tightened his grip, sniffling. Angel was here, and even though he smelled a bit like the Burning Liquid, he knew Angel would never do what DrSandy had done. His nostrils flared at another scent. “Angel hurt?” 

Angel sounded surprised. “I cut myself, why? How did you know?” 

Crowley examined the object on Angel’s finger. “Smelled it. How hurt?” Angel went apple colored. 

“Err, it’s rather embarrassing, truth be told. It was the feather you gave me.” 

Crowley gulped. “I hurt Angel!” He hung his head. “Crowley very bad.” 

“Oh! No, my dear. It only stung for a moment, and the cut wasn’t even that deep.” There was a pause before Angel spoke again. “Though normally, feathers don’t cut a person...” 

“Not real feather.” Crowley spoke up, head still down. “Is...sy...sy...syn...”

“Synthetic? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Crowley looked up and nodded. “Crowley...are you saying...someone **made** your feathers?” 

“Not just feathers. Wings.” 

Aziraphale gaped at him. “Who?” 

Crowley looked at his hands. “I did.” 


	7. What Dreams May Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories, dreams, and moments we'd all rather forget.

Chapter Seven: What Dreams May Come

[“Okay. New tape. Should last long enough for me to finish. I’m starting to get the migraine, which means that I’ve got about a half hour before I lose consciousness. Fuckin’ fever’s burning me up inside. I’ve turned down the temp in here, but my body feels like I’m standing in the middle of the fucking sun. Fuck that, feel’s like I’ve **swallowed** the goddamn thing. I’d strip off entirely if I wasn’t worried about someone coming in and catching me, and it’s kinda hard to make a break for it in the nudie.

“So. Me being a pretty damn smart kid(no, seriously, Mum had me tested once and I was told that my IQ couldn’t be measured) I figured out pretty damn quick that if I got hurt, I got better real quick. My theory was it had to do something with that weird ass drug that Mum took to help her get knocked up with me. Fuck knows what was really in it, and why I came out different to all the other kiddos whose moms took the same drug. But I can’t afford to go off on tangents, not now.

“I became an adrenaline junkie. Fast bikes, fast cars, BASE jumping, cliff diving, sky diving, if it involved some sort of risk or danger, I did it. Pushed myself to the limit, because why the fuck not. Still, I was smart enough to not get into drugs or shit like that. I wanted the thrill of knowing I’d be okay after, and besides, I’d seen enough growing up of what drugs did to people I knew. And it’s not like they’d effect me anyway. Something about my healing factor meant that all foreign substances were neutralized about five seconds after they entered my bloodstream.

“But, in between throwing myself off any high surface I could, and trying to set new land speed records in this old Bentley that I restored(fuck I miss that car), I was burying myself in books. I don’t mean to brag, but I graduated school top of my class. 

“I’d known from fifteen that what I wanted was to go into medicine, to see if maybe I could figure out a way to isolate the genetic factor that made me what I was. I thought if I could isolate it, duplicate it, than I could use it to create a cure for everything that ailed the human race. 

“I was two years into my studies when I met Gabriel….”]

Aziraphale gawped at Crowley. “You made them?” The other man didn’t respond, staring at his hands and cooing. “Crowley!” His voice was sharper than usual, and he flinched. 

Startled, Crowley glanced up, tears in his eyes. “Why Angel yell?” 

Aziraphale modulated his voice. “I’m sorry, but you gave me a bit of a shock. You said you made your wings?” 

Crowley blinked. “No.” 

Aziraphale growled. “You. Just. Said...” 

Crowley scooted away from him, looking petulant. “Angel mad, and not smell nice. Crowley don’t like Angel.” He turned and faced the corner, hands over his ears. “Not listen to Angel until Angel say sorry.” 

“Oh, for the love of...I’m sorry, Crowley. I had a bad night and I’m taking it out on you. Friends?” 

“Angel mean it?” 

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, I mean it. Now please, about your wings. Why make them?” 

Crowley turned and grinned at him. “To fly. But never did.” 

“How did they...” Aziraphale gently traced the horrid scar at the junction of Crowley’s shoulder blades. Crowley flinched, his entire body shuddering. 

“Don’t ‘member. ‘Member crying, and hurt. Woke up, had wings, and...and...”

( _ “This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Anthony? To be an angel? To fly above everyone else? Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for being a fallen angel. You’ll like the modifications I made, I think. I’ve already got a team working on these things for use in combat.”  _

“ _You fucking sick bastard! You won’t get away with this! I swear to God I’ll expose you for the warmongering psychopath you are! LET ME GO! What...what the fuck...”_

“ _You feel it, don’t you?”_

“… _.WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?!”_

“ _Genetic manipulation, Sunshine. Take something meant to heal, tweak it just a_ _ **teeny**_ _bit, and I’ve got myself a bug that makes the fuckin’ Black Death look like the common cold. Got a lot of buyers lined up, too. Thing is, I can’t have a goody two shoes like you ruining things by blabbing to the press. I thought about killing you, but we both know you’d come back. This is for the best.”_ )

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was more scared than he had ever been, Crowley was lying on the floor, eyes wide open, They were blank, the gold swallowed up by black, and he was screaming again, a sound that made Aziraphale think of a kettle whistling. “Crowley, please stop! Please, come back to me!” The screaming abruptly stopped, and Aziraphale felt a moment of relief...until Crowley began convulsing. “Fuck!” 

It had been years since he’d had to restrain a convulsing patient, and none of those had been as violent as Crowley. He was almost lifting himself entirely off the floor, his wings beating against the  tile  in a hellish tattoo. “ What do I do...what do I do...” Gulping, he came forward, straddling Crowley’s hips. It was like being on a bucking bronco ride at a fair. Crowley opened his mouth and screeched anew. Aziraphale was certain his brains were going to be rattled right out of his skull. “Crowley, please stop! Please, you’re scaring me!” 

The door opened, and Aziraphale saw Sandalphon standing there, shock baton in hand. “Heard the fucking thing screaming all the way in my office. Dr. Arch told me to take care of it. Just get off it for a sec, Dr. Fell, and I’ll make sure it quiets down.” He activated the baton. “It gets this way sometimes. Acts out. A good jolt to the system will help, I promise.” 

“ARE YOU INSANE?! I AM NOT LETTING YOU TOUCH HIM! GET OUT! NOW!” 

Sandalphon shook his head. “Look, I promise, this is for the best. Just lemme give it a little poke, and it’ll be as docile as a lamb.” 

“no lightning no lightning no lightning” Aziraphale realized belatedly that Crowley was whimpering. “be good stop bad no lightning please no angel no lightning please Crowley be good please no...”

“Sandalphon, if you don’t get out, I will throw you out. Crowley is my patient, and I am still a doctor and a believer in the Hippocratic Oath. You will not hurt him, not while I can help it.” 

Sandalphon snorted. “Bleeding heart. Okay, fine, but don’t come crying to me when he rips out your throat.” 

Once he left, Aziraphale turned back to Crowley. He had stopped convulsing, but was still sobbing quietly, whimpering “Crowley be good no lightning” over and over. “He’s gone, Crowley.” 

Golden eyes blinked, gazing up at him with a helpless, lost expression. “Gone? No lightning? No hurt?” 

“No hurt.” Crowley sniffled and sat up, wrapping his arms tight around Aziraphale. “Dear, can you...tell me what happened?” 

“Want Oscar.” 

Aziraphale stroked his hair. “Of course.” He picked up the unicorn from where it had fallen(fortunately close enough so he didn’t have to reach, because he had a feeling that if he moved Crowley would go into hysterics again) and pressed him gently into Crowley’s arms. “There we go.” 

Crowley whimpered and clutched the stuffed toy tight, pressing his face into Aziraphale’s chest. “Bad think happen. Crowley...’member something Bad.” He climbed onto Aziraphale’s lap. “Angel? Why smell like Burning Liquid and not Apple?” 

“What bad thing did you remember?” 

Crowley shook his head. “Don’t ‘member. Just ‘member it Bad. Angel answer Crowley now.” 

Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s spine. “Well...you know how I’m a doctor, right?” 

“Yes. But you nice doctor. Not like DrArch or others.” 

“Yes...but I’m also different from them in that I’m a surgeon. I...”

“Cut. You cut.” Crowley whimpered. “Cut me.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, trying not to cry. “Oh, my dear boy, you know I hated having to do that! And I haven’t done it since. But yes. See, before I came here, I worked in a big hospital taking care of people who had been hurt so badly that I was the only one who could help them.” He  sighed. This was going to be the difficult bit. 

“My job was...hard. I needed a way to cope with some things, and I used alcohol...the Burning Liquid..to...well, make myself feel better. It worked, for a bit...but then...I started having this Dream.” 

“What is dream?” 

“It’s...when you’re asleep, you see pictures in your head. Don’t you dream?” 

Crowley pressed closer. “Dream ‘bout Angel once. We were on wall, and I was snake. You were real angel. Spoke nice to me.” 

“What a lovely dream.” Aziraphale sighed. “Unfortunately, my Dream is not so lovely. In it, I’m in...an operating room. I’m all prepped for surgery, wearing scrubs and gloved up. The room is very dim, and there’s a light in the ceiling, but it’s almost dead. There’s an operating table, and my patient is lying on it. I can’t make out a face, because it’s covered with a sheet that has my scalpel and other stuff on it.

“I come over and start to pull the sheet down. All of a sudden, it flies off, and I see my patient. There’s no face, just a blank whiteness. The scalpel is in my hand, and before I realize what’s happening, I’m cutting into the blank slab.” Aziraphale shivered. “It..blood spurts up in a tidal wave, and there’s this screaming sound. I’m covered in black blood, and no matter what I do or how hard I try, the scalpel keeps cutting and cutting. It’s as though my arm is apart from the rest of me. The scalpel has moved from the face, which is a mass of blood, by now, and moved down. By the time it stops cutting, the body looks like it’s gone through a meat grinder. 

“That’s when I look back up and realize that the face is recognizable. It’s mine. And I wake up screaming.” 

“Oh, Angel...” Crowley stroked his hair. “Crowley sorry.” 

“Thank you, love. Anyway, the only thing that stopped the Dream was drinking, and after a while, it..became easier to just drink so I didn’t dream at all. But then I had the Dream even when I drank, so I’d drink to forget it, and before I knew it, I was drowning in the bottle. Then I...I did something Very Bad. I came to work drunk, and...a child died because of me. It’s why I’m here, because I killed a little girl.” Aziraphale sobbed. “I’m afraid you’re wrong about me. I am like everyone here.” 

“NO. Angel not like them. Crowley safe with Angel. Always safe with Angel.” He pulled back and stared into his Angel’s blue eyes. “Angel also safe with Crowley.” 

“Thank you, my dear.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey just a heads up to everyone reading. I'm going to be dog/house sitting for my Aunt and Uncle starting tomorrow until Saturday so the next few chapters will be delayed a bit. Sorry.


	8. Confrontations and Collisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past finally breaks through, and Crowley and Aziraphale have a confrontation that is a long time coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to go ahead and treat y'all to Chapter 8! Enjoy!

Chapter Eight: Confrontations and Collisions

[*Note: Throughout the following, the speaker’s words are slow and slurred, as if he is struggling to talk*

“Met...Gabriel first month of my second year at med school. Was...charis...charismatic. Claimed to...wan’...change...world. I...thought...same as me….”]

THE NOT SO LONG AGO

Anthony listened raptly as Gabriel rambled on about what new breakthroughs he hoped to achieve once he got out of medical school. He had the means, the ambition, and the drive.

Unfortunately, what he did not have was the brains. Gabriel wasn’t **stupid** , not by any means, but he was struggling in all his classes and so had come to Anthony, who already had a reputation for being the smartest student the university had seen in centuries, to ask for tutoring. He had seemed so nice, so earnest in his eagerness to better himself that Anthony had found himself saying yes. 

So every Thursday night at seven they would meet at the local hangout, have a dinner of greasy burgers and chips, and Anthony would do his best to explain the difference between red and white blood cells, what platelets were, and why it was probably not a good idea to mix up the liver with the spleen. 

And Gabriel would gamely take notes, insist that yes,  **this time** he understood it, and invariably when exam time came he would crash and burn in a spectacular fashion. 

(They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. If this is true, Anthony was well on his way to Bedlam over Gabriel’s continued ability to not grasp anything he was being told.)

“Why the fuck,” Anthony had asked once, after hearing that once **again** Gabriel had failed his exam, “are you in this school in the first place? It can’t be because of scholarly merit.” 

And Gabriel had smiled that charismatic smile and just said “I want to change the world,” and that had been that. Damn it. Anthony liked the big galoot. He was almost like a big dumb puppy dog. 

[“Sh’ldve known it was all a lie. Gabriel had me fooled for so long. F’ck, I even tole ‘im ‘bout my...’bout my unique condition. Shoulda seen the way his face lit up. Like Christmas and his birthday had come at the same time(despite his namesake, he was actually born on March the seventh.) Tutoring sessions became testing sessions became an idea...”]

It was Gabriel, they decided, that would be the one to purchase the physical building, since he had the money, as well as be the face of the company(which was to be called Eden Labs). Anthony was a little too odd looking, with his golden eyes and hair the color of fire. People tended to get creeped out by him. Gabriel, though, had charm and class to spare. He could speak to the press, get the public interested in what they were doing and what they hoped to achieve.

They found the perfect building, set on a hill overlooking a small village called Tadfield. Anthony wanted to handle the hiring, but Gabriel convinced him to let him do it, citing that “You’ll be so busy with your work, I’d hate for anything to disturb it.”

So Anthony had relinquished control of the hiring to Gabriel and buried himself in his work. He was trying to isolate the gene that controlled his healing factor. If he could do that, than he might just be able to synthesize it, make it so that it could be distributed to everyone, and put an end to disease and injury forever. But so far, the results had been less than promising(at least to him. Gabriel kept insisting that they needed to test the enzyme cocktail on humans to get a proper result, not lab rats.)

[“Six mnths. That’s how...long took...to...to…”

**There is a crashing sound, as if someone has fallen to the floor. We hear the sound of footsteps, then another, different voice**

“You fuckin’ idiot. Sandy, grab his legs. Michael, get his arms.” 

“What about the tape, Boss?” 

“Forget the tape. By the time we’re done, he won’t remember his own name, least of all these tapes. Y’know, Anthony, for all your brains, I’m surprised you didn’t see this coming.”]

Crowley bolted awake, panting hard. He clutched his head, pulling hard on his hair as he rocked back and forth, keening to himself. He kept having...he didn’t know if they were dreams, like what Angel had talked about, or if they were Real. They felt so real. He’d been having more and more of them lately, and he wished he knew what was happening to him. He needed Angel. He needed to see Angel. “want angel want angel want angel want angel WANT ANGEL WANT ANGEL WANT ANGEL WANT ANGEL!!” 

“HEY! SHUT THE FUCK UP BEFORE I MAKE YOU!” Hastur had come into the room, looking murderous. Crowley ignored him, his finger digging furrows into his cheeks as he screamed for Aziraphale over and over. 

Hastur stalked forward and slapped Crowley hard across the face. He screeched louder, and Hastur felt his ears ringing. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, if Dr. Arch finds out I let you pitch a fit like this he’ll have my ass in a sling. Fine. Okay. I’ll go get your fuckin’ angel!” He left the room, heading for the phone in the hall. “Goddamn fuckin freak...” he muttered, dialing Dr. Fell’s number. “Hey, is this Dr. Fell? Yeah, I know what fuckin’ time it is. That freak that’s imprinted on you is pitchin’ a fit loud enough to bring down the motherfuckin’ building, so if you could maybe get your pansy ass out of bed and come and make him SHUT THE FUCK UP, it would be appreciated!” He slammed the phone down. Fuck, he needed a cigarette. 

Aziraphale arrived fifteen minutes later, looking as though he had just rolled out of bed . “Where is he?” 

“Trying to beat himself to death against the walls, I think.” 

Aziraphale pushed past Hastur and into Crowley’s room. “Crowley?” 

“Angel!” Aziraphale was thrown backwards by the force of the other man’s tackle. Crowley clung to him so tight that Aziraphale felt like he was in a vise. “Angel help me having thinks don’t know if good or bad can’t stop them scared Crowley scared not know what mean keep thinking name call Anthony think maybe doctor but no Anthony here only DrArch DrSandy Crowley sc...scared...” 

“Crowley, I need to breathe.” The steel grip loosened slightly. “Maybe Anthony was the name of a doctor you knew before?”

Crowley shook his head. “No. In think he is nice, and doctors not nice. Doctors hurt.”

Aziraphale felt a pang of pain. “I’m a doctor, and I don’t hurt.”

Crowley snorted, glaring at him. “You cut Crowley. You hurt.”

“I’ve told you, I didn’t want to!”

“ _ **BUT YOU STILL DID! YOU HURT ME! I BEGGED YOU TO STOP AND YOU DIDN’T! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DIFFERENT, BUT YOU’RE A FUCKING HYPOCRITE, LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!”**_

“I DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE!” 

“YOU COULD HAVE CHOSEN NOT TO HURT!” 

“I HAVEN’T HURT YOU SINCE THEN, HAVE I?! NO! I’VE DONE MY BEST TO KEEP YOU FROM BEING HURT! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” 

“I WANT YOU TO ADMIT YOU WERE WRONG!” 

“ _ **I WAS WRONG! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR? DO YOU WANT ME TO TELL YOU HOW I WENT HOME THAT NIGHT AND GOT SO DRUNK THAT I COULDN’T WALK INTO MY ROOM AND PASSED OUT IN THE LIVING ROOM BECAUSE I WANTED TO DROWN OUT THE SOUND OF YOU SCREAMING IN PAIN?! DO YOU WANT TO HEAR HOW I WISH WITH ALL MY HEART THAT I HAD STABBED THAT FUCKER GABRIEL IN THE THROAT THAT DAY, OR HELL, EVEN WALKED AWAY?! YOU KNOW WHY I’VE STAYED?! BECAUSE I FUCKING CARE ABOUT YOU!”**_

Aziraphale hung his head, panting hard. Crowley was staring at him, mouth open. “Crowley...oh, god..I am so, so sorry.” He burst into loud, gasping sobs. “I...am..so..so, sorry...” He felt something warm cover him, and realized it was Crowley’s wings, mantling them both in a black cloak of feathers. “I’ll,,,understand if you never forgive me, but god..I am sorry.” 

“Angel mean it?” 

“More than I have ever meant anything in my life.” 

“Then Crowley forgive you.” He wrapped his arms around the doctor. “And Crowley care ‘bout Angel too.” 

EDEN LABS, ONCE 

“The fuck? What? Gabriel, what the hell is going on? Why am I strapped down? Let me go!”

“Sorry, Sunshine, no can do. See, you were getting a leetle too close to some of my research for comfort. That enzyme you created, man, it’s some pretty powerful stuff. And, welll...turns out that if you tweak it a bit, you’ve got yourself one hell of a biological weapon.”

“What…?” 

“Oh yeah, seriously **nasty** shit. Presents like cancer, but then eats a person from the inside out. You got a mild dose. That’s why you’re feeling so shitty. I put it in your coffee right before you started recording those tapes.” 

“You..knew.” 

“Chah. Of course I knew. Every single person in here is loyal to me, idiot. Uriel told me you found the formulae. I knew a goody two shoes like you wouldn’t understand.”

“What is there to understand? I thought you wanted to change the world!”

“Oh, I do. And I think by manufacturing supply as well as demand, things are gonna change. For me. I’m gonna be rolling in it.” 

“It won’t work. My genetics are what makes the enzyme work, and if you kill me, there’s going to be a limited supply. You’ll run out eventually.” 

“Who said anything about killing you? I’ve got other plans.” 

When faced with severe trauma, the human mind reacts in several different ways. The more severe the trauma, the greater the severity of the reactions. In the case of Anthony, the trauma he endured(having wings forcefully grafted to his back without the use of anesthesia, as well as being forced to confront the knowledge that his friend and colleague had betrayed him) was so severe that his mind shut down completely. The last thing he heard before the Dark claimed him was Gabriel saying “I think Heavenly Labs is a better name, don’t you?” 

It would wake up in the Dark, cold, scared, and its mind shattered. 


	9. Hell Hath No Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes to a head.

Chapter Nine: Hell Hath No Fury

Crowley was whimpering in his sleep again. Aziraphale got up from the chair he was slouched, half asleep in, and went over to the mattress on the floor, kneeling down next to the broken genius and stroking his hair. “Sshhh...go back to sleep, love. Angel’s here. You’re safe.”

“’Ngel...” Crowley groped for him, eyes still shut in sleep, and Aziraphale slipped out of his shoes and jacket, lying next to Crowley, who instantly pressed himself against the doctor’s side, sighing in happiness. Aziraphale let himself relax, feeling Crowley’s warm breath on his neck as he fell back into true sleep.

After quite a few incidences where Gabriel made it clear that unless Aziraphale could control the fact that Crowley went into hysterics if he was apart from ‘his angel’ for more than an hour he would be thrown back into his old cell and Aziraphale fired, the surgeon had decided that the best course of action would be if he stayed overnight in Crowley’s room. He would, of course, go back to his flat when he needed to shower, shave, and change clothes. For those times, he left Crowley a piece of his clothing: an old scarf that he hardly wore anymore, patterned with blue and gold tartan. And of course, Oscar. Crowley clung to the unicorn like a life line, and the only person that could touch it without Crowley going into sobbing, screaming hysterics was Aziraphale.

Aziraphale gently ran his hands down the sleeping man’s arms, then his wings. The feathers were so silky, so smooth. It was such a shame, that they had been forced onto him in such a brutal fashion. In another life, another world, Aziraphale could easily imagine that Crowley was truly an angel that had fallen to Earth.

Crowley whimpered again, his body shaking in the grips of a nightmare. “Shh...”

“no drsandy no please no hurt no more hurt no what doing no no no NO!” Crowley screamed, bolting upright and scrambling away from Aziraphale, pressing himself into the corner, whining in fear. “no please hurts stop hurts stop hurt hurts hurts hurts...”

“Crowley. It’s okay. Dr. Sandy’s not here. It’s just me. Come on, come back.” Aziraphale gently stroked Crowley’s hair, speaking in a low, soft cadence. He had seen the blankness in Crowley’s eyes and knew he was still in the grips of his dream. “You’re safe, love. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

The golden eyes slowly cleared, and Crowley looked up at Aziraphale. “Safe? No hurt?” Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley sniffled and climbed into his lap, placing his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Angel not hurt Crowley like DrSandy?”

Aziraphale hugged him fiercely. “Never. I would die before I touched you like that.”

“DrSandy say Crowley deserve it. Say no one would want to. Say he doing Crowley favor. But favor not s’posed to hurt.” Crowley whispered into Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale felt a surge of rage so powerful it staggered him. Oh, he was going to kill that sick fuck.

“Angel having bad thoughts.”

“Err...how did you…?”

Crowley nuzzled him. “When have bad thoughts, eyes go dark. Also you say you going to kill sick fuck. Is DrSandy?”

Aziraphale blushed, not realizing he had spoken that last bit out loud. “Yes. That would be Dr. Sandy. What he did to you was sick and wrong. You did not deserve that.”

“Was right ‘bout no one want to.” Crowley whispered. “Angel not want to.”

Aziraphale gulped. The thing was, under different circumstances, he would very much want to. Anyone with eyes could see that Crowley was rather beautiful, with his golden eyes, fire red hair, and legs that seemed to go for days. And those hips! Aziraphale had never seen hips that moved like Crowley’s did.

But the fact remained that no matter how beautiful, Crowley was a broken, shattered shell of the person he had once been. He had spent two years locked in the dark, being subjected to experiments that, if not for his healing ability, would have killed him a dozen times over. He had been beaten, raped, debased, electrocuted, and made to feel as though he wasn’t even a human being, just a subject to be used.

Aziraphale found himself wondering. What would things have been like if instead of Gabriel, it had been Aziraphale that Crowley met at med school? What if it had been Aziraphale who found out about the healing, Aziraphale that he went into research with? Would things be different? Would Crowley have his wings, just under different circumstances?

“Angel thinking?”

“I was...just thinking about, well, what if it had been me?”

“You?”

“If instead of Gabriel, you met me at school. What would be different?”

Crowley snorted. “All be different. Crowley would be not Crowley, be...whole. Angel would want help people, and...” he trailed off, staring down at his hands.

“And what?”

“Would...would love me. Like Crowley love Angel.” Aziraphale gasped. Crowley continued to speak, not daring to look up. “Crowley not stupid. I know how...broken I am. I...remembering things.” He took a breath. Speaking in complete sentences was still so hard. “Ang..Aziraphale, before you came I used to pray every day for death, or for a savior. What Gabriel and the others did...it hurt. So much. And you’re so kind, and brave, and strong, and I hadn’t experienced that in so long. You gave me something back, showed me that the world isn’t a dark, cruel place. I wish, so much, that I had known you when I was a whole person and not this wreck I’ve become. I could have...we could have been so good together. I would have loved you, Angel, like you deserved.” He looked up into Aziraphale’s eyes. “You...have mended so much of me already, Angel. I may not ever be fully repaired, but you made me feel human for the first time in years. I can never thank you enough for that.”

Aziraphale, tears running down his face, pulled Crowley into a tight hug. “Oh, my dear...”

“Angel sad?”

Aziraphale laughed wetly. “No, Angel very happy.” Crowley purred happily, nuzzling his neck. “You did a lot of talking, love. I’m very proud of you.”

“Makes head hurt, talk long.” Crowley groused. Aziraphale laughed again. “Not funny.”

“It is a little funny, love.” Crowley grumbled, and Aziraphale smirked.

“Bastard.”

Aziraphale laughed heartily. “Where did you hear that word?”

“Called DrArch bastard last night.”

“Oh...yes...well...don’t repeat that in front of him.”

Crowley grinned, shaking his head. “Not bastard. Asshole.”

Aziraphale cackled, tears pouring down his face as he fought to get himself under control. “Crowley! You demon!”

Crowley went stiff, hands on his cheeks. Aziraphale gulped. “Crowley?”

“Demon demon demon demon eden eden Eden demon of Eden face of Eden demon face...” he began scratching at his face. Panting hard and speaking in a shrill voice. “Anthony can’t be face of Eden too serpent eyes apple tempt scare them you’ll scare them, Anthony, leave it to me, Gabriel leave it to Gabriel knows best, trust me, trust me Anthony, keep working keep finding keep healing Anthony knew lying made words let world know healing harming healing harms harming heals tape hiss hiss snake wings wings wings wings”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale grabbed the other man’s hands, stopping the flow of words as well as the scratching. Crowley keened, struggling. “Crowley, calm down. Take a breath.” He breathed in, slowly. “Match my breathing, okay, love? In. Out. In. Out.” Crowley’s harsh panting slowed, then stopped. “What happened?”

“Crowley ‘membered more things.” He shook his head. “Crowley...used to be Anthony. Red hair, yellow eyes. Like Crowley. But not know what hiss hiss tape is. Angel know?”

Aziraphale frowned. “I...am afraid I don’t.”

“And I’m going to make sure it stays that way.”

Aziraphale gasped in shock, spinning around. Gabriel stood in the doorway, a key ring in one hand and the shock baton in the other. Crowley took one look at it and pressed himself into the wall, hyperventilating with fear. “You know, one of the advantages of owning this place is that I have a key to all the rooms. I also have quite the loyal staff. Well, except for you. You...I hired you to perform surgery on that thing when I asked, not to form some sort of...bond with it. But no. It’s starting to remember, and I really can’t have that. It would mean an end to all I’ve tried to accomplish. I thought at first of just firing you, but there would still be the possibility of you going to the press and trying to ruin me. Not that it would work, but you could try. Then where would it be? Locked away in the dark again, no doubt screaming for you to come back. So I’m afraid the only course left to me is to get rid of you both. Now, it’s going to take a lot more voltage for that thing than you. That pesky healing factor, you know. Still, I am rather interested to see just how much it takes. I’ll mainly be concentrating on directing the voltage straight to the heart. You can take notes, if you like.” Gabriel stepped forward, the baton sparking, and Crowley screeched in terror.

Aziraphale surged forward, wrapping his arms around Gabriel’s waist in an effort to stop him. A feeling like lightning hit him, and he went sprawling, his limbs twitching as he gasped in pain. Gabriel brandished the baton like a club. “Touch me again, Sunshine, and I’ll give you a bigger shock. In fact...” he pressed the tip to Aziraphale’s stomach, giving him another, longer shock. Aziraphale screamed.

Crowley, who had been cowering against the wall, snapped up at the sound of that scream. Gabriel was hurting Angel. Gabriel was hurting angel Gabriel WAS HURTING ANGEL!!

Crowley screamed, not in pain, but in animal rage. He flapped his wings, propelling himself across the room faster than Gabriel could blink. **“NO!HURT!ANGEL!NO HURT ME! EVER EVER AGAIN!”**

He yanked the baton out of Gabriel’s grip, turned it to the highest setting, and plunged it straight at Gabriel’s heart. The scientist screamed, the electricity making his body jolt and jitter. Crowley kept the baton in place, eyes blazing in rage. “ _ **You will never hurt me again.”**_

Gabriel’s body crashed to the floor. Crowley crawled over to Aziraphale. “Angel? Be okay, please?”

Aziraphale coughed violently. “I feel like I just got kicked by a very angry elephant wearing steel toed boots. Fuck I need a drink.” Crowley helped him sit up. “Is he..?” Aziraphale looked over at Gabriel. Crowley nodded. “Good. Give me the baton. One more thing to do. Do you trust me?” Crowley nodded. “When I tell you, start screaming for Dr. Sandy.” Aziraphale took up position behind the door, nodding at Crowley.

“DRSANDY DRSANDY DRSANDY DRARCH HURT HURT HELP HELP HELP DRSANDY HELP!”

Sandalphon came into the room(just as Aziraphale had thought, he was never far from Gabriel) looking murderous. “What the fuck are you screaming abou...Dr. Arch!” He stared at Gabriel, then looked over at Crowley. “WHO DID THIS?! YOU MONSTER! YOU KILLED HIM! WHERE’S DR. FELL? HUH? WHERE IS HE?!”

“Right here, Sandalphon.” Aziraphale stepped out of hiding and pressed the baton into the other man’s neck. Sandalphon’s body jiggered. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” He released the baton and Sandalphon fell to the floor. “Crowley’s told me what you did to him. How you used him, violated him. You raped him, over and over because he was too scared, too broken to fight back. And you laughed about it. You and Gabriel broke his body and his mind. You dare to call him a monster?!” Aziraphale pressed the baton against Sandalphon’s heart. “You are the monster, and you will not hurt him again.”

When it was done, Aziraphale looked down at the bodies. Funny, he thought he would feel bad. Or at least remorseful. But instead he felt a sense of vindictive satisfaction. Crowley was staring at him. “Angel? Is...it over?”

Over. It was… “It’s over. ” Somehow, he knew the others wouldn’t try to stop them leaving. “Come with me, my love.” He picked up Oscar in one hand and took Crowley’s hand in the other, guiding his steps out of the room and down the hall, stopping at a side door. “Close your eyes, love.” Crowley shut them, and Aziraphale opened the door.

Warm. There was warmth. And brightness, and...so many scents. There was something that felt soft and tickled under his bare feet. And sounds. “Open your eyes, my darling.”

Slowly, Crowley opened his eyes. “I...” He was outside. For the first time in two years, he was outside. Outside where it was warm, and bright, and...so big. “Scared.”

Aziraphale hugged him. “I know. But Crowley...you’re free.”

_**Free.**_ He was...Crowley burst into tears, clinging to his angel.

‘ _Thank you. Thank you for sending him to me.’_


	10. Step Into The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tales are told and wounds start to heal.

Chapter Ten: Step Into The Light

Crowley lifted his face up, letting the sun’s warmth land on it. Free. He was free. He looked over at Aziraphale, who was looking at him in unabashed admiration. Oh, how Crowley loved him. This man, this..angel that had come into his life, had seen past the broken, beaten **thing** that Gabriel and the others had turned him into and recognized the human that still existed down deep inside. Crowley had told Aziraphale that he knew just how broken he was. His mind had been shattered, over and over, by the horrors inflicted on him. Crowley knew, too, that just because he was finally free of Heaven that didn’t mean.. “Not over.” 

Aziraphale blinked at the whispered words. “What?” 

Crowley reached for him, and Aziraphale immediately grasped his hand, linking their fingers together. “It’s not over, Angel. I won’t ever be normal, not after everything. I have...I’m fractured. I’ll always be fractured, always have nightmares. My emotions...you know what they’re like. Whoever Anthony was, he’s gone. I won’t ever be him. The tapes he made, they’re all that’s left of him. I’m not him, and I can never be him again.” 

“Oh, Crowley...” Aziraphale said, eyes filling with tears. “Look at me, my love.” Crowley looked over, golden eyes wet. “I don’t know Anthony. I know you, my darling. And you are a person. Whole and complete. Nothing, and I mean **nothing** that happened to you will change that. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I do know that I will be with you every single step. I am not letting you face this journey alone, my love.” He gently tugged Crowley’s hair, pulling him down so they were face to face, then pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “You saved me too, you know. Made me realize that I can actually make a difference to someone, that I’m not a useless drunk. For the first time in a long time, I felt...wanted.” 

“You are wanted, Angel. You are so wanted, so loved. I may not ever be able to...show my affection in any normal way, but I swear by the stars I will always love you.” 

“I don’t want normal, Crowley. I want you. With your gold eyes, your fire hair, your raven wings. All of you. Every bit that you are. The broken and the whole, the good and the bad. If you’ll promise to take me as I am, with all my flaws and all my faults. We’re both broken in our own ways, my dearest. But together, we’re whole. I love you. And I will never, ever let you forget it.”

“Aziraphale...” Crowley said the surgeon’s name like a benediction before pressing their lips together. The kiss was soft, sweet, and passionate. Crowley was pretty sure that he had died and gone to Heaven. Stars were bursting in front of his eyes, and he could swear he heard a choir singing. Oh, kissing Aziraphale was **definitely** nice. Crowley resolved that there would be a lot more of it in the future. 

H e dimly realized that at some point during the kiss Aziraphale had pulled them down onto the grass. It was an automatic thing, climbing into his angel’s lap and wrapping his arms and wings around them both. “We need to make a plan, Crowley. We have to expose this place for what it truly is.”

“What Gabriel made it into.” Crowley said, bitterness in his voice. “I wanted to use my healing factor to help. But he...he wanted to hurt. And he...he was so charismatic. He could fool anyone. Hell, I’ve got an IQ that can’t be measured by standard testing, and he managed to fool me. Then again, I was never that smart when it came to my emotions. Even when I was Anthony, I was never that great at keeping my emotions in check. I thought...” he shook himself. “Never mind. The tapes. That’s...best chance.” 

“I agree, but wouldn’t he have destroyed them?” 

Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “No. His ego was too big for that. Thought...after Anthony gone, who would go against him? But...Crowley not know where tapes are.” 

Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair, smiling to himself at the happy trills coming from the other man. “Well, let’s use process of elimination. He had an ego, like you said, so he’d want to keep the tapes nearby to remind himself of the power he held over you. He claimed everyone was loyal to him, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t actually trust anyone, so he would keep them in a location that only he would be able to access.” 

“Anthony made tapes in room with desk.” Crowley furrowed his brow, trying to bring the memory to the surface. “Plant. There was plant. No, plants. Lots of. Anthony’s plants. Door had...name on it. Dr. Anthony. Was not all wood, had glass. Big glass in wall. Anthony could see hill...see..apple tree on hill. Made good apples. Had for eating. Gabriel close wood and glass door after Anthony gone. Throw key in dump.” Crowley sighed. “Key gone long time now. No way into Dr Anthony plants room.” 

Aziraphale smirked. “Well, I wouldn’t say that. I know the tree you’re talking about, it’s on the North side of the hill. Though I don’t think it’s got any apples.” 

“Wrong time of year for apples, Angel.” Crowley said with a hint of smugness in his voice. Aziraphale showed great maturity, sticking out his tongue. 

“Wiseacre. Come on, let’s go to the tree.” 

The tree was an old one, gnarled and twisted. Crowley frowned at it, touching the trunk. “Poor thing, so neglected. I used to water it every day.” He stroked the trunk, then looked over his shoulder and froze. “Th..that was my...mine.” 

The window was crusted with dirt and debris. Crowley staggered over to it, pressing his hand into the detritus. “Mine. Mine mine mine mine mine mine...” 

“Crowley?” He snapped back to the present at Aziraphale’s voice. The doctor was holding what looked like a very large rock in his hand. “You might want to step back, my dear.” Crowley obeyed, and Aziraphale hove the rock with all his might at the dirt-encrusted window. 

There was a muffled crashing noise, and Aziraphale punched his fist in the air. “YES! I still got it!” Crowley blinked at him, amused, and he blushed. “I...uh...used to play cricket when I was younger. I was a champion bowler. Shall we see if perhaps we can get into the office?” 

Crowley looked pointedly over his shoulder. Aziraphale made a face. “Right. I’ll see if I can get in. Give me a boost?” Crowley nodded, and they knocked out some more glass(it was so old and fragile it fell out with ease) and then Crowley boosted Aziraphale up and into the office. 

The smell of dead plants hit him, and Aziraphale gasped, breathed in dust, and began sneezing his head off. “So..ACHOO...where would..ACHOO...the tapes be...ACHOOO!” 

Crowley looked in the window, eyes wide and starting to go dark. Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s cheek. “Stay with me, love. Where would the tapes be?” 

“Anthony...hide tapes in desk. But last tape in...under desk. DrSandy kick it under desk.” 

Aziraphale went over to the desk, hoping with all his might that a, the tapes were there, and b, they hadn’t rotted away. “Which drawer?” The dust was almost unbearable. 

“Big one. Hold more.” Crowley couldn’t look into the office. The memories kept trying to push themselves to the surface, so powerful that they were almost staggering him. He needed to be here for Angel. He couldn’t let himself slip back into the dark of his mind. “Anthony keep tapes in that.” 

The desk was so rotted through that the drawer came off in Aziraphale’s hand and crashed to the floor. There was the remnants of a notebook, several dozen withered apple cores, something that Aziraphale thought may have been a turkey sandwich at one point but was now harboring a new form of life, and a locked metal box, the lock rusted shut. Aziraphale grabbed the box and started to head for the window, but then stopped and peered under the desk. It was too dark to see anything. Aziraphale straightened, went back to the window and, with Crowley’s help, clambered back out, taking a deep breath of dust free air. “Let’s hope my hunch was right.” He picked up another rock and smashed the lock. The lid opened, and Crowley gasped. 

“The tapes!” 

“I couldn’t find the last one, love. I’m sorry.” 

Crowley shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I remember every detail of that conversation.” He ran his fingers over the other tapes. “But we need to get these out. I don’t just implicate Gabriel in them, I mention everyone that worked here. If we can find a reporter that would believe us, we could bring this place down.” He sighed. “But I don’t know where we could find someone like that.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help the bastard smile that graced his face. “You know, I might just know a person.”

Aziraphale’s cousin, Anathema Device(soon to be Mrs. Pulsifer-Device) prided herself on not being shocked by anything. As one of the best investigative reporters in the world(and with three Pulitzers to prove it) she had been in situations that would have stricken fear in the hearts of ordinary people. She had seen it all, done it all. She had a knack for being able to tell what stories would sell and which ones would fail, a gift that almost bordered on prophetic. It was in her blood, after all. Her and Aziraphale’s grandmother Agnes had been quite the crackerjack reporter herself, even writing a book about her experiences. 

So Anathema was pretty sure she could handle anything life threw at her. Which is why she only  **just** managed to not cry out in shock at the sight of her cousin showing up on her doorstep accompanied by a man with wings. “Zira! What a surprise. Who’s your...friend?” 

“’M Crowley.” The other man said, hiding behind her cousin and peeking out at her, shyly. Anathema looked at Aziraphale, questions all over her face. 

“I’ll explain everything once we’re inside, Ana. And trust me, you’re going to want to hear it.” 

Ana stepped aside, allowing them to enter. “Right. I’ll put the kettle on.” 

“Where’s what’s his name, Iguana?” Aziraphale asked, looking around. Anathema sighed. 

“Newt. And he’s spending a few days with his mom. She was going on about missing him. He’ll be back tomorrow.” 

Aziraphale led Crowley over to the sofa. “It’s going to be okay, love. I promise.” 

Ana returned a few minutes later laden with tea and biscuits. “Right.” She pulled a recorder out of the pocket of her dress. “Am I right in guessing this is all on the record?” Aziraphale nodded, and she grinned. “Wonderful.” 

Aziraphale pushed the metal box she had seen in his other hand across the table. “Listen to those when you get the chance. I was only there for the last bit, but Crowley...he’s got a real tale to tell.” 

Crowley gripped his angel’s arm tight, shuddering. “I...Angel, Crowley scared. Crowley so scared.” 

Aziraphale kissed the side of his head. “I know, my love. But I am here, and if you want to stop, you can.” He looked over at Ana, who nodded. “Take a deep breath, and whenever you’re ready, start talking.” 

Crowley nodded, breathed deeply, and then opened his mouth. The words poured out like a fountain. He kept a tight hold of Aziraphale, the feel of his angel anchoring him to the earth and sanity. He became aware at some point that he was crying, and he could see tears in Ana’s eyes. 

When the flow stopped, Crowley felt like he had been wrung dry. He was bone tired, his head hurt, and  his nose was running like a tap. 

He also felt better than he had in a very long time. He sighed, snuggling up to Aziraphale. “L’veyou. Crowley go ‘sleep now.” 

Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. “Love you too. Happy dreams.” He looked over at Anathema. “So, what do you think?” 

“It’s the most unbelievable story I’ve ever heard, and it is going to make me a household name.” 

“So you’ll write it?” 

“Fuck yes, I’ll write it! I’d be crazy not to!” 

Two weeks later, Ana’s report was published, boosted by copies of the tapes that Anthony had made, bolstered by “reliable sources”, and corroborated by ‘an insider.’ The story went viral, and an investigation into Heavenly Labs was launched. It was discovered that the founder, Gabriel Arch, had murdered the true founder, Dr. Anthony Crow, and been manufacturing biological weapons while claiming to be working on a cure all, and the rest of the staff was implicit in the goings on. Sadly, Gabriel had been found in the building, the victim of electrocution. A baton lay nearby, but the only clear fingerprints on it were those of Dr. Arch and his associate, Dr. Sandalphon, also deceased. 

As for Aziraphale and Crowley...Ana’s story had made no mention of anyone named Aziraphale Fell or of a man with wings that was once the founder of a lab called Eden. “If I mention Crowley,” she had said, “then he would just be going from one prison to another. More scientists would want to study him. It’s best that the public just thinks that Anthony’s research was stolen and that Gabriel murdered him. You wanted Crowley to be safe, Zira. This is how you keep him safe.” 

Aziraphale knew she was right. 

Now they stood together on a different hill, looking out over the land below. Crowley took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.” He stepped back twenty paces, then broke into a run. When he reached the edge, he jumped off. 

For a heart stopping second. Aziraphale was sure he was going to plummet to the ground. But then Crowley’s wings flapped, and he soared upwards, laughing in joy. “I’m flying! Angel, I’m flying!” 

Aziraphale watched, tears of joy in his eyes, as Crowley flew, eyes glowing happiness and giddy with laughter. 

‘ _He was always an angel. And now he’s where he belongs. We’re both where we belong.’_


End file.
